


Wisp'light Through the Trees

by heget



Series: king of beech and oak and elm [3]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Beleriand during the Time of the Two Trees, Eglath, Gen, off-screen mention of Elmo and Elu Thingol and the rest of the Sindar Royal Family, tiny innocent Eöl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 19:57:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1317340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heget/pseuds/heget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young boy is lost during the long hunt of the Eglath for their missing king.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wisp'light Through the Trees

The moss is cool and soft, feels like the hair of his father under the boy’s fingers, short hair right after it is shorn when the boy rides on his father's shoulders, for the boy’s father wears not the long braids with feathers and beads like Mother and Uncle and Grandfather and the others. Dark hair, not silvery like Uncle Galadhon, or even the dark silver of Grandfather, it does not reflect light. Mother says her uncle, the missing king, has even brighter silver hair, as bright as the stars that pierce down through the trees. They will find King Elu, Grandfather’s brother, by the shining silver of his hair, like a star between the branches. Mother says to always be looking for those glimmers of light behind the leaves, move through the forest with eyes open, to never stop and never forget to  _see_. The boy has spent his whole life searching through the trees, even before he was old enough to know what is was everyone was searching for. He knows each type of tree by the texture of bark under his fingers. He can find his path by the scent of earth and outcroppings of rocks. His mother taught him the names of the birds and other animals by their calls as she carried him in their journeys, then how to hunt them when he grew older. His father taught him how to build snares, to find water when there are no streams, to build a fire when the cold comes, what to say to make Mother pause and laugh.

He is not afraid of the dark forest, to be alone in its shadows, for he has always had his parents, known that he would never be lost, ever unable to find them. Even when he could not see them, he could hear and feel his way back to them, and know that in truth they had never been far. They were never truly separated, never truly lost. _The king is lost between the trees, we shall search and find him, see my son, see if you can find him, don't become lost like him. You are not a star; do not wander far._ Grandfather and Grandmother worried, the last time they stayed in the same camp, told Mother they disapproved. They worried she and her husband and son would disappear into the trees and never return like Grandfather’s brother the missing king. Mother had laughed then, long and sharp, and Father had rubbed the short hair of his scalp in worry.

Now the boy wishes they had stayed with the rest of his family, with Grandfather Elmo and Grandmother and Uncle. Or that he could find them. Even a glimmer of star-silver hair, though in the back shadow cave of his heart the boy never believed Great-Uncle Elu would be found. It was just a story, like touching the stars with your fingers, or dreams of flying, or that there were songs of the family that forsook them echoing back across the waves whispering  _'sorry we abandoned you sorry sorry sorry'_.

 _I’m sorry_ , the boy whispers to the echoing caverns in his heart. _Sorry sorry sorry. I’m lost; I wasn’t listening. Why aren’t you replying to my calls? Mother, Father, come back. Don’t join the missing king in the stars._

The boy feels his youth, too young still for an adult name, though just recently he had begged his father for a true name, a name with meaning, old enough to prove his character, old enough to search on his own.

Now the boy is alone, and rubs his fingers across the cool moss and shivers and wipes away tears.

His eyes water because he is straining them so hard, searching between the dark leaves. He must be confident, he must see.  _Look, look long enough, and we will find him_.  _Behind every tree, look for the starlight._  Mother’s echos are weak without her laughter to give them weight and texture.

Look, look long enough and he will find them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you read [Wall the Heart](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1282357/chapters/2655145), you know this story does not have a happy ending. 
> 
> That Eöl's name has no meaning, and he waited twelve years to bestow a name that celebrates the deductive and insightful eyesight of his son, suggests a possibly cultural practice of temporary child names (perhaps even to discourage evil spirits around Cuiviénen?). And yes, I make Eöl related through his mother to Elu Thingol- though his father's heritage I leave purposefully unclear as to work with other proposed family backgrounds, though my best guess is Tatyar Avari.


End file.
